ALL CHARACTERS ARE PART OF HALCYON | DO NOT STEAL
Characters: Alarick Reindhart / Locke Narrin
Timeline: In-between the First and Second Mission
Summary: TBD
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ALL CHARACTERS ARE PART OF HALCYON | DO NOT STEAL
Characters: Alarick Reindhart / Locke Narrin
Timeline: In-between the First and Second Mission
Summary: TBD
The apartment had been a disaster zone, only three hours before. Where clothes, both of the dirty and clean kind, once littered, there were clean floors, and where there had once been a pile of dirty dishes, and trash to be taken out, an empty sink and a fresh smelling kitchen replaced it. The living room, also once in a total disarray with six foot tall stacks of books standing guard on either side of the couch, was now completely organized, with each book tucked neatly onto its designated shelf, with an art book or two laying on the coffee table. On top of the art books, laid a stack of papers: Locke's manuscript for his latest book.
The redhead, not smelling all too nice after rushing to clean his after-writing-hibernation mess, had went to go clean up himself, and just came out of the shower, a damp towel resting around his shoulders with the occasional droplet of water to land on the man's glasses lens from the bangs that hung in his face. His clothes- a dark dress shirt with the top two buttons undone and sleeves rolled up at his elbows and a pair of jeans- stuck to his almost dry skin. He wasn't particularly bothered with his hair quite at the moment, with it only slightly sticking up, but more concerned with the fact that the clock seemed to be ticking down to eight o'clock: the arrival of Alarick.
The idea of the man soon knocking at the door reminded him of the bourbon that was still sitting upon the top shelf in his kitchen. Rarely did he ever touch the stuff, but it did help when he was getting in a rather edit-y mood while he was supposed to be writing. He took long strides into the kitchen and pulled the bottle down, as well as two glasses. He brought them to the coffee table and then sat, trying to rearrange everything on the table to be- there was a knock at the door.
Locke had jumped slightly, not expecting the sound just yet. He bit down on his lip as he tried to force himself to leave the less than perfectly arranged table and made his way to the door. His eye peered through the peep hole and he pulled open the door, forgetting the lock that made the door stop mid-pull. He laughed nervously as he closed the door to fix it, and then pulled it open again, seeing Alarick.
"Sorry about that." he said, wearing a lop-sided smile on his lips.
Alarick was a man that liked to seem as if his entire ‘getting ready’ process was as effortless and effervescent as clouds across a blue sky. Yet to watch him in his room before his ‘meeting’ with Locke one would have to disagree. He was meticulous about his outfit, and had chosen with scrutinizing detail a tie that brought out the blue hues of his eyes without seeming as if that was entirely what it was for. He slid on a sandy khaki waistcoat, matching slacks, a white button up underneath it all and his shiniest pair of brown dress shoes. He wanted to make an impression considering that he was only ever viewed in his Sidereus outfit. He fixed his hair immaculately and wrapped his scarred arm in its’ usual wrappings. He didn’t want Locke to have to look at all the ugly parts of him. Ironically enough the only person that had ever thought him attractive was the narcissistic Wen- and that had been in some fleeting drunk moment.
And to think that Alarick was considering professing his attraction to the man- that same attraction that he had had since they had first met. Foolish fantasies. Yet he had to stop thinking about that- he was meeting Locke for bourbon. Yet he wasn’t completely without tact. The redhead had mentioned his enjoyment of the male company, and being one of the few homosexual members of Sidereus- Alarick would make complete use of that fated meeting to illicit some sort of non-friendly response. Flowers seemed cliché. Locke was supplying the alcohol so he couldn’t bring that. Food would seem like he was more interested in drinks and food to find Locke the main focal point of his attention. Dammit what should he bring?
Inevitably Alarick did settle on food, but not the usual snacking kind like pretzels and cheese. Instead he brought chocolate covered strawberries, and other sweetened less ‘bromance’ style horderves. Those were nicely wrapped up in a little white box with a bow on the top that was used as a strap to hold it. He found himself rapping on Locke’s door at the approximate time they had indicated in the approximate position. The chain catching on the door only made Alarick smile more. When the door opened to reveal Lock- Alarick offered his ever genuinely charming smile. “It is quite alright.” He stated as he slid in and glanced over the other’s attire. A bit more casual than his own, but Alarick was unsure he even owned jeans. “Once again- thank you for having me over this evening. And this is for you- or us I suppose.” He corrected himself quickly. “I also brought the fixings to make Old Fashions. One of my favorite drinks with bourbon. You want one?” He stated warmly.
"Depending on what is inside the box of mysteries, I might not share." he laughed, almost nervously and then pointed down at the floor. "Watch your step." There was a small step down from the entry way to the living room, and there was also a twin one up to the kitchen level.
The couch was situated on the wall that conjoined the entry way and the kitchen, and on the opposite wall was a gigantic bookshelf. When the things on television grew too boring and cliched, great stories and history books replaced the suddenly worthless TV screen and its related systems. Most people would prefer to read off of the newest e-reader or some other device, but Locke was the odd one out who preferred to read off of the old worn pages and the withering binding.
"Ah yes. I think I'd like one. Was the trip up the stairs too bad?" Locke recalled that the other had once walked with a cane, and two flights of stairs can be harsh on some with weak legs. He then walked into the kitchen, to go grab a plate for whatever Alarick had brought in that lovely little white box.
Alarick smirked. “I’m not one for sweets really.” Slowly he stepped inside, “thank you.” Those eyes of his scanned the room and found it quite welcoming to the senses. It lacked the straight sterility of his own condo, but then again not everyone was him. Sometimes people chose objects and decorations for their comfort and not their aesthetic. He followed Locke into the kitchen- not at all bashful of invading the other’s home. Yet he tried to stay a few steps away as not to crowd the other.
“The stairs were fine,” Alarick attempted to say with a smile but there was a pale bitterness to his tone. While he acted comfortable with his looks most of time- he was far from it. An attractive man that was now nothing more than some hacked up shell of his previous existence. Yet he quickly derailed from such dour thoughts and pulled the somewhat crumpled brown sack filled with cherries, oranges, lemons, and a small glass vial of bitters. “If you show me to your bourbon I will make us some. Do you have a muddler?” He inquired somewhat simply as it was as common a kitchen device as a can opener. “And while I do that- you can help yourself to these.”
"Muddler..." Locke thought for a moment, and his hand immediately reached out to the small marble goblet with something resembling the requested tool resting inside. "I have something like it, if it is not what I think it is." He pulled the simple looking stick of green and black marbled stone and placed it on the counter next to Alarick. After stealing a cherry from the bag, he traversed back into the living room where he picked up the bottle and glasses and brought them back to the kitchen. The glass containers were set down carefully and Locke made himself comfortable, perching himself on the counter. He was far enough to not be invading personal space, but close enough, in his small cramped kitchen, to watch what the scarred man was doing.
Locke actually loved the spot in which he was sitting. With nowhere else in the apartment that was high enough off of the ground and safe to sit, the red head had a penchant for sitting on the counter. Sometimes, he would eat his dinner, read or even write in the very place.
After a moment, he adjusted the glasses that were slipping down the bridge of his nose and then remembered the original mission of figuring out what was in the mysterious box of wonders. He ducked his head to the side before opening the cabinet above his head to pull a plate down into his lap. The box was placed on top of the plate, pulled from its spot next to Alarick.
"So, I know that whatever is in this box is sweet, but will it jump out and bite me?" He asked, smiling playfully and lifting the gift box up to his ear.